Read Online Proud Hearts (Wild Hearts Romance Book 2) by Phoenix Sullivan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phoenix Sullivan
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that I was gorgeous in his eyes. And when I dreamed, it was of he and me marooned together on a wild and desert isle.
CHAPTER 12
Dee
Last evening’s inventory of shot video revealed a couple of seconds of the snake attack. Technically, they were seconds from right after the adder bit Reena, striking from where it had probably taken refuge for the day since adders normally hunted at night. It was more likely a surprised reflex on the snake’s part at being disturbed than a premeditated attack. Training and habit had swung the lens around as she fell to capture her attacker. It was dodgy filming because she had been setting the camera on its tripod just before being bit, and the tripod fell with her. But the dodginess gave the footage a nice panicked feel—precisely the kind of cliffhanger the show liked right before it broke to commercial. The editors—and Reena—would be pleased.
Since the satellite receiver and my laptop would be recharging overnight while the generator ran, I decided to use the last of the battery juice to send a digital clip of the snake to Gary and Reena’s phones.
At first light, with primary and backup batteries for Reena’s tripod and handheld cameras fully charged, I picked up the handheld to practice with, learning its commands—locations and switch combinations—so I would be able to transition quickly from one to the other out in the field where it mattered. I followed my practice subject through the viewfinder as he moved through his daily workout. Whatever trick made the camera further accent and define his already highly sculpted body wasn’t of my doing, but I made it my duty to try to figure it out, zooming in to capture the glisten of his tanned skin, applying filters to change the mood of those penetrating blue eyes, until finally, after I’d been through every trick the camera offered, I just let it run while I enjoyed the natural view.
“Performance all good?” he asked as he joined me for a ready meal breakfast.
I must have been distracted. “Sure. You looked great, as always.”
He laughed, the sound as cool and easy as a stream bubbling over pebbles. “Thanks. Always happy for a compliment, but I did mean the camera.”
Heat stung my cheeks. “Yeah, that was great too. Quality equipment.”
“You’re talking about me again, right?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Care to get sweaty with me tomorrow?” He waggled those expressive brows of his.
I gave him my best school-marm stare.
He gave me his best boyish grin, and I felt it thrill through to my toes. “Work out with me, I meant.”
I continued to stare.
He continued to grin. “I’m not the only one here who always has dirt in my mind. I really mean work out—crunches, jumping jacks, push-ups, the whole regimen.”
“So you’re telling me I’m soft?”
“Oh, I’m sure you are—in all the right places. Truth is, you look pretty perfect to me. I just thought working out could be something we could do, you know, together. Like…a date.”
I blinked. “A date?”
“Sure. No cameras. Just you and me getting physical. Seeing if we’re a fit. Without the actual…fitting. At least not on the first date. And if it goes well, we can meet here for breakfast after. Just a date—no strings attached.”
It was absurd. Yet it was also kind of sweet. What woman in her right mind would say no to an invitation like that from Chris Corsair? Then again, what other women would Chris have to promise no shenanigans to in order to tempt her out with him?
Maybe if I’d been less fit or more self-conscious I’d have had a good reason to say no. Not that I could hope to keep up with him—it was his routine, probably refined over weeks or months for his specific needs. Which would actually make it a good test of character. Could he make adjustments to accommodate me to make me more comfortable, or would this be a competition already biased in his favor that he’d be determined to win? Was “compromise” even a
CHAPTER 12
Dee
Last evening’s inventory of shot video revealed a couple of seconds of the snake attack. Technically, they were seconds from right after the adder bit Reena, striking from where it had probably taken refuge for the day since adders normally hunted at night. It was more likely a surprised reflex on the snake’s part at being disturbed than a premeditated attack. Training and habit had swung the lens around as she fell to capture her attacker. It was dodgy filming because she had been setting the camera on its tripod just before being bit, and the tripod fell with her. But the dodginess gave the footage a nice panicked feel—precisely the kind of cliffhanger the show liked right before it broke to commercial. The editors—and Reena—would be pleased.
Since the satellite receiver and my laptop would be recharging overnight while the generator ran, I decided to use the last of the battery juice to send a digital clip of the snake to Gary and Reena’s phones.
At first light, with primary and backup batteries for Reena’s tripod and handheld cameras fully charged, I picked up the handheld to practice with, learning its commands—locations and switch combinations—so I would be able to transition quickly from one to the other out in the field where it mattered. I followed my practice subject through the viewfinder as he moved through his daily workout. Whatever trick made the camera further accent and define his already highly sculpted body wasn’t of my doing, but I made it my duty to try to figure it out, zooming in to capture the glisten of his tanned skin, applying filters to change the mood of those penetrating blue eyes, until finally, after I’d been through every trick the camera offered, I just let it run while I enjoyed the natural view.
“Performance all good?” he asked as he joined me for a ready meal breakfast.
I must have been distracted. “Sure. You looked great, as always.”
He laughed, the sound as cool and easy as a stream bubbling over pebbles. “Thanks. Always happy for a compliment, but I did mean the camera.”
Heat stung my cheeks. “Yeah, that was great too. Quality equipment.”
“You’re talking about me again, right?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Care to get sweaty with me tomorrow?” He waggled those expressive brows of his.
I gave him my best school-marm stare.
He gave me his best boyish grin, and I felt it thrill through to my toes. “Work out with me, I meant.”
I continued to stare.
He continued to grin. “I’m not the only one here who always has dirt in my mind. I really mean work out—crunches, jumping jacks, push-ups, the whole regimen.”
“So you’re telling me I’m soft?”
“Oh, I’m sure you are—in all the right places. Truth is, you look pretty perfect to me. I just thought working out could be something we could do, you know, together. Like…a date.”
I blinked. “A date?”
“Sure. No cameras. Just you and me getting physical. Seeing if we’re a fit. Without the actual…fitting. At least not on the first date. And if it goes well, we can meet here for breakfast after. Just a date—no strings attached.”
It was absurd. Yet it was also kind of sweet. What woman in her right mind would say no to an invitation like that from Chris Corsair? Then again, what other women would Chris have to promise no shenanigans to in order to tempt her out with him?
Maybe if I’d been less fit or more self-conscious I’d have had a good reason to say no. Not that I could hope to keep up with him—it was his routine, probably refined over weeks or months for his specific needs. Which would actually make it a good test of character. Could he make adjustments to accommodate me to make me more comfortable, or would this be a competition already biased in his favor that he’d be determined to win? Was “compromise” even a
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